But if immortal any thing remain,
Rejoice, my Muse, and strive that end to gain.
Thou kind diffolver of encroaching care,
And ease of every bitter weight I bear,
Keep from my foul repining, while I fing
The praife and honour of this glorious king;
And farther tell what wonders thou didst find
Worthy thy fong and his celeftial mind.
Beyond the Dome a lofty tower appears, Beauteous in strength, the work of long-past years, 275 Old as his noble stem, who there bears sway,
And, like his loyalty, without decay.
This goodly ancient frame looks as it stood
The mother pile, and all the rest her brood.
So careful watch feems piously to keep,
While underneath her wings the mighty fleep;
And they may rest, since † Norfolk there commands, Safe in his faithful heart and valiant hands.
But now appears the ‡ beauteous feat of Peace,
Large of extent, and fit for goodly ease;
Where noble order strikes the greedy fight
With wonder, as it fills it with delight;
The maffy walls feem, as the womb of earth,
Shrunk when fuch mighty quarries thence had birth;
Or by the Theban founder they'd been rais'd,
And in his powerful numbers should be prais'd ;
* The Caftle. The Duke of Norfolk, Constable of Windsor Castle, The House.
Such ftrength without does every where abound,
Within fuch glory and fuch fplendor's found,
As man's united fkill had there combin'd
T'express what one great genius had defign'd.
Thus, when the happy world Auguftus fway'd, Knowledge was cherish'd, and improvement made; Learning and arts his empire did adorn, Nor did there one neglected virtue mourn; But, at his call, from fartheft nations came, While the immortal Mufes gave him fame. Though when her far-ftretch'd empire flourifd most, Rome never yet a work like this could boaft: No Cæfar e'er like Charles his pomp exprefs'd, Nor ever were his nations half fo bleft:
Though now (alas !) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rise.
Here, as all Nature's wealth to court him preft,
Seem'd to attend him Plenty, Peace, and Rest.
Through all the lofty roofs * defcrib'd we find
The toils and triumphs of his god-like mind :
A theme that might the nobleft fancy warm,
And only fit for this who did perform.
The walls adorn'd with richest woven gold,
Equal to what in temples fhin'd of old,
Grac'd well the luftre of his royal cafe,
Whofe empire reach'd throughout the wealthy feas;
*The Paintings done by The Sieur Verrio, his Majefty's chief Painter.
Eafe which he wifely chofe, when raging arms
Kept neighbouring nations waking with alarms :
For when wars troubled her foft fountains there, 320
She fwell'd her ftreams, and flow'd-in fafter here;
With her came Plenty, till our ifle feem'd blefs'd
As Canaan's fhore, where Ifrael's fons found rest.
Therefore, when cruel fpoilers, who have hurl'd
Waste and confusion through the wretched world, 325
To after-times leave a great hated name,
The praife of Peace shall wait on Charles's fame;
His country's father, through whofe tender care,
Like a lull'd babe fhe flept, and knew no fear;
Who, when fh' offended, oft would hide his eyes, 330
Nor fee, because it griev'd him to chastize.
But if fubmiffion brought her to his feet,
With what true joy the penitent he'd meet!
How would his love ftill with his justice strive!
How parent-like, how fondly he'd forgive!
But now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rise.. Since after all thofe toils through which he ftrove
By every art of most endearing love,
For his reward he had his Britain found,
The awe and envy of the nations round.
Mufe, then speak more what wonders thou didst find Worthy thy fong and his celeftial mind.
Defcribe that lofty monumental * hall,
Where England's triumphs grace the fhining wall,
When she led captive kings from conquer'd Gaul.
Here when the fons of Fame their leader meet,
And at their feasts in pompous order fit,
When the glad sparkling bowl inspires the board,
And high-rais'd thoughts great tales of war afford,
Here as a leffon may their eyes behold
What their victorious fathers did of old;
When their proud neighbours of the Gallic shore
Trembled to hear the English lion roar.
Here may they fee how good old + Edward fat,
And did his glorious fon's arrival wait,
When from the fields of vanquish'd France he came,
Follow'd by fpoils, and usher'd in by Fame.
In golden chains he their quell'd monarch led.
Oh, for fuch laurels on another head!
Unfoil'd with floth, nor yet o'ercloy'd with peace, 365
We had not then learn'd the loofe arts of ease.
In our own climes our vigorous youth were nurs'd,
And with no foreign educations curs'd.
Their northern metal was preferv'd with care,
Nor fent for foftening into hotter air.
Nor did they 'as now from fruitless travels come
With follies, vices, and diseases home;
But in full purity of health and mind
Kept up the noble virtues of their kind.
* Where St. George's Feaft is kept.
+ Edw. III. The Black Prince.
Had not falfe fenates to thofe ills difpos'd
Which long had England's happiness oppos'd
With stubborn faction and rebellious pride,
All means to fuch a noble end deny'd,
To Britain, Charles this glory had reftor'd,
And those revolted nations own'd their lord.
But now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rise. And now furvey what 's open to our view,
Bow down all heads, and pay devotion due,
The temple by this hero built behold,
Adorn'd with carvings, and o'erlaid with gold;
Whofe radiant roof fuch glory does display,
We think we fee the heaven to which we pray;
So well the artist's hand has there delin'd
The merciful redemption of mankind;
The bright afcenfion of the Son of God,
When back through yielding skies to heaven he rode, With lightning round his head, and thunder where
Thus when to Charles, as Solomon, was given
Wisdom, the greatest gift of bounteous heaven; 395
A house like his he built, and temple rais'd,
Where his Creator might be fitly prais'd;
With riches too and honours was he crown'd,
Nor, whilft he liv'd, was there one like him found.
Therefore what once to Ifrael's lord was faid,
When Sheba's queen his glorious court furvey'd,
The Chapel at the end of the hall.
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